Incarsyon
by Satol
Summary: The first stop I called Incarsyon. The second, Laogai. Here, I could not name the place, but between the black-haired boy from Laoyu and I, we planned our escape.
1. Chapter 1

28 days on a train.

I'm not entirely sure of the day-by-day, but it must have been twenty-eight days (or at least some multiple of it), because when I got on the moon was full, and when I got off, the moon was full again.

The first stop had been behind the prison house. That was where most all of us had gotten on. It was a bit Puritan-esque, actually, how the only way in or out of that tiny town was side-by-side with the stronghold of retainment and punishment. I wasn't scared. I knew vaguely where I was going and clearly what I had done, but I suppose that complete confidence in my memories gave me a support. Either way, I'm glad for it, because support was something I have rarely come into contact with in my life.

I remember trying to recall the English word for "imprison". It had been so long since my last lesson, though, that I couldn't remember such an uncommon word. I settled with calling the first stop "Incarsyon", which sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite right.

That night, we were shepherded onto 13 cars of bunker, as many as could fit comfortably without suffocating. I think I stood on someone's toes, and I know that someone stood on mine. It wasn't too bad, though, because none of us had shoes. I was so tired that I sat down and slept, and the person next to me did the same.

Barely speaking to one another, we instinctively formed a routine. Each passenger found a partner, and we would lean against each other to sleep, trying to keep good manners by not accidentally falling on anyone.

My partner was taller than me and had gray hair. That's all I remember, because we were both nocturnal. During the day, we slept, and during the night, the temperature drop would wake us both in near-darkness. Whatever moonlight there was filtered through windows and people. Though I had trained my eyes to see in darkness, that much obstruction made it nigh on impossible to see. Anyone who spoke spoke in whispers, and anyone who didn't faded into the walls of the train. I suppose we were all just used to keeping quiet even where no secrecy was needed. We were all in the same boat, we just got on in different ways.

The last stop I decided to call Laogai. I remembered watching a television show with a lake called Laogai. I remembered learning a history lesson about a prison called Laogai. So I decided to call it Laogai. I departed to a full moon and arrived to a full moon, left a prison and entered another one. I had always been afraid to make my own steps.

Now, though, I had no fear. I had no honor to uphold, no parents to impress, nothing, nothing to lose at all. I decided that my best option was to just make a new life for myself. So I answered when my name was called, took the clothes they handed me, and held the hammer in my right hand.

* * *

_I suppose a few warnings are in order, now that you've already had a taste of the story._

_First off, I don't intend to write this in any particular format. It's like a one-man play: everything follows what came before it, but it might not follow chronological order. Certainly it might be confusing, and there will definitely be **abuse** (implied at the bare minimum), and quite possibly other **dark themes** as well._

_Be warned: I have a habit of treating my fanfictions like English papers or writing assignments. I don't really intend to hold back here, while staying within the T rating. I may not be Toni Morrison, but I can certainly try._

_Anyway, I'll try to keep the author's notes to a minimum, so I'm trying to get as much as I can out of the way right now. If you're willing to let me continue in this vein for a bit, I hope you'll enjoy the ride. Please hold on to your seat belts and your sanity._


	2. Chapter 2

We worked for months.

When we got off the bunkers, others got on from the other side. The train kept going, and the work continued. I exchanged my dusty, tattered pinstripe suit for a regular shirt and jeans that were torn at the bottom and large at the waist. Someone muttered that I was tiny and shoved a length of rope in my hands. The cogs in my brain began turning instantly, and within seconds I had made knots in the rope specific to my dimensions to form a set of makeshift suspenders. A rope belt would only slip above the waist hem and chafe my skin.

Within a few days, those same fingers went from tender, to frozen, to bruised, to blistered, to calloused. That same brain went from agile, to tired, to sluggish, to shocked, to dead. I didn't mind. Where I was and where I thought I would be, I wanted to be strong, rather than kind. Laogai was nothing more than another place to live, another place to work, perhaps a place to survive.

Because we were uncertain, we made it a place to survive. We sang in voices choked by dust, in five different languages and in no particular key. We smashed and crushed the heads of our enemies, of our overseers, of Gods. In killing Life over and over again with our own hammer blows, we survived.

We left Laogai the day the next train arrived. Perhaps it had begun at Incarsyon, perhaps it had begun someplace else. All I knew was that it had arrived. I could not find my partner, so I found a new one; he, too, was taller than me, but had short black hair and a scar on his chin. He was one of the lucky ones: the ones who shut down, numb to any pain they might have later endured. With Partner 2, though, I only spent a few days before I was called off the train with roughly 10 others.

I now wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been called off there. There was an open blue sky, which meant either that winter had passed or that we had come back down south. Perhaps both. A dirt road with a bus stop sign and a blue sky with some distant trees. I wasn't even aware that such an uninhabited, undeveloped place existed (with the exception of the frozen north) across all of Vongola, the country of my ancestors, though it stretched from east to west and everything in between. We were picked up by two men on a hay wagon, drawn by a horse. Only there wasn't any hay, so we all sat down, found Partner 3, and slept.

We kept our clothes, and our hammers we had left back in Laogai. Now we were given sickles, half of us, and bags the rest. I was given a sickle, and I held it in my left hand.

Partner 4 was assigned to each of us. My partner was a young man, perhaps two years my senior, with a half smile and eyes full of space and stars. As I raised the sickle and cut the wheat, he followed behind me and packed it into his bag. We rarely spoke, but he had a voice like his eyes: full of mystery, with the familiarity of an older brother.  
One day I realized that there was one who had no partner. As the days drew by, his path slowly came to be parallel with ours. He held his basket on his back, but for the extra time that he spent packing, he worked twice as fast, and went back to the overseers with half as much grain again as any pair of the rest of us. He never spoke, even when the hot sun beat down on his jet-black hair to where it gave off steam, or on his pale white skin to where it flaked. But when he left the overseers with his overflowing basket, his bent back straightened as though he were the most powerful being on the planet. Or at least all across Vongola, from what had once been half the Pacific Islands up to what had once been Siberia, from what had once been the Japanese archipelago all the way westward to what had once been Saint Petersburg. By 2184, places had kept their long-established names, though countries became districts, mere cogs within the machine. Everything, from the smallest detail, was part of the system. Dispensable, but a part nonetheless.

Back in the barracks, I asked my partner, who had been here before the train from Laogai, who the black-haired boy who worked alone was. In his voice, full of stardust and space, he replied with a half-smile.

"I don't know."

It almost seems scripted, the way he had been kept out of the field the next day. At lineup, Partner 4 had begun to cough instead of call "Present!" to his name, and he was not allowed out of the barracks, and indeed not anywhere near the wheat field. That day, I was given a basket to carry on my back and my sickle, and I began to work.

Sure enough, the black-haired boy who worked alone worked roughly parallel to me, just two paces away. With a small stretch, I could have touched him easily. At such a short distance, I could see the little details in his movement. He changed his grip each time he lifted the sickle. His left foot shifted to point slightly outward and his right leg bend when he took a swing. A bead of sweat ran down his pale white skin next to steely gray eyes.

I must have watched longer than I'd thought, because his words reminded me that I was supposed to be working. "It's rude to stare." He, like Partner 4, had a voice full of mystery. He never looked up, but kept talking. I didn't want to interrupt or reply, for fear that he would stop talking in his voice, full of mystery and resolution. "You're not left-handed, so you should hold the sickle in your right hand."

"It feels more natural in this hand," I lied.

"Then move your right foot first when you step. Mirror me."

Following his orders, I turned so that my body was slightly facing his, and mirrored his movements. Gradually, I realized why he worked so efficiently. Just as we had sang in Laogai, his very movements seemed to send a whispered song through the waving stalks, and he moved with it. A mutual exchange: wave to whisper, bend to back, sway to swing. Grab, hold, chop, drop. Because he readjusted his grip, the sickle never fell; because he moved his foot, he never slipped; because he worked in rhythm, he never stopped to rest.

On the way back to the overseers, I saw that we had gone half as far again as any pair of the rest of them. I thanked him. He muttered that it meant nothing, left the basket with the three supervisors, and disappeared into the wind.

On the way back to the barracks, I hung at the back, but could not see his jet-black hair.

Partner 4 did not recover from his illness for a few days. When he did, the black-haired boy who worked alone stopped speaking.

As the two of us headed back to the overseers with a bag of grain between us, he spoke. "You seem disappointed. Did something good happen while I was gone?"

I hadn't found out the boy's name, though I wanted to. But at the very least, I began to understand his personality. When there was work to be done, he worked, and when there wasn't, he left. Once he saw that I was regularly working near to his pace, he slowed down a bit, and began to talk. "Where are you from?"

"Incarsyon. And you?"

"Laoyu."

Neither were places that existed, I knew that much. But still, through some sort of hyper-sensitive intuition, I could vaguely visualize the place he had named. A "rememory", as a character in a book I had once read put it. Another prison, perhaps in the south-eastern Sino District, and he standing to wait for the train with his head held high and his back straight.

I found out that his birthday was half a year before mine, but he did not care to remember his age. Based on his appearance, I guessed that he must have been around a year and a half my senior, aged close to 18. Often he asked me questions before telling me about himself. "What are you here for?"

"I spilled three and a half years' worth of secrets. And you?"

"I told the truth."

With a wry smile, I looked up into Partner 4's brotherly, familiar eyes. "Yeah... something good."

…

At Laogai, the overseers had been abusive men. Their ringleader cursed and spat and drank, rarely moving from his chair beneath the shade of a tree, except to threaten the nearest workers with a gun. Another made it a hobby to throw sharp stones at our backs, then kick us and laugh when we dropped the hammer. The third had an enormous voice, and brandished a willow switch at us if we did not work to his liking. All in all, they were terrible, awful men, and we smashed their heads beneath our hammers so completely that we had to do it again and again.

I'm not sure if he has, but back then, I knew exactly how and why the ringleader would die. He would die as he lived, cursing and spitting, from alcohol poisoning virtually throughout the entirety of his body. Perhaps he would even die from accidentally inhaling drink. But it would be from drinking.

Here, however, it was different. So different that I found it strange to try to give the place a name other than its own.

There were still three overseers, each still intimidating in their own right. However, they rarely brandished it. Each had a gun, but these, too, they rarely held in their hands. They, like us, kept largely to themselves and spoke mostly in quiet, so long as we were getting our work done. In retrospect, they seemed as trapped as we were.

Their leader sported a handgun in a holster at his hip, and a fedora with a band on his head. I had reason to believe he also hid a derringer somewhere, but I can't say for sure. He seemed completely disinterested in us and our work, spending most of his time sitting on the roof of the shed instead of actually overseeing, coal-black eyes pouring over pages and his lips barely moving when he spoke.

His cohorts were a man and a woman, both sporting rifles which they carried slung from their shoulders. He was very relaxed, leaning casually against the wall of the shed and talking about nothing in particular. She, however, was much more strict than either man, and was the one who most often criticized our work. The black-haired boy and I, and subsequently Partner 4 as well, were usually exempt from this, except on the occasional days when he did not appear and I could not find the rhythm for myself.

Once, however, the leader spoke to me. The second day that Partner 4 had been ill, he stood a short way off from the others as they collect our harvest. After I had handed my basket to the man- the woman scared me, with her burned right cheek and critical eyes-, I turned to go back to the barracks, hanging at the back of the crowd again. His path intersected with mine, and I briefly felt a hand ruffle my brown hair as he walked by.

"Good job."

I, having never received such gestures of affection before, could do nothing but cry myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

That day, I had stood in lines with 23 others, arranged in a rectangular grid lattice. All of us wore half-masks, the upper halves of our faces obscured from view. I don't think I'd ever be able to recognize any of the others, bar one, if I had wanted to. Cramped as we were in a classroom of an old school building, we held our tongues in the extra humidity from the Russo District's saturated summer air and the heat of 25 bodies. I was 12 at the time.

Our captain ran us through some drills: what to do when, how to respond to coded orders, when not to react. I was terrified, but I tried not to let it show as we went to it with a will. We all believed we were doing what was best, for one reason or another.

At the end of the day, the Captain held me alone back. He had light golden hair, and I could just barely see the glimmer of blue-gray irises beneath the covered eyeholes of the white ceramic mask. He leaned forward and tapped my forehead with two fingers.

"You're bluffing; don't pretend to be strong when you're not, just get stronger."

"You're just like your father."

…

The morning after Partner 4 became well again, the man told me that he had requested that we work separately. "He felt like he was holding you back from your full working potential," he said with a half smile and laughter in his sky-blue eyes. "We don't have any complaints, I guess, so it's fine."

He handed me the scythe and basket that I had already become accustomed to, but right as I turned to leave, he thumped me on the shoulder. "I like your eyes, by the way; they've got a good look. Fiery orange."

I looked back at him and smiled. "Thank you."

_I got them from my father._

…

I don't know how long I worked in that field. Perhaps it was as little as a month or as many as 4. All I knew was that the black-haired boy and I spoke with each other everyday. We worked faster than the others, and pulled ahead of them, earning ourselves a small pocket of privacy amongst the whispering wheat stalks.

One day, though, when the leaves of the trees far at the edges of the field were beginning to dye themselves in fall colors, he said something. Something filled with magic.

"You're different."

We had been eating our noon meal at the time: an unusually generous portion of bread, a fruit (he had an apple, and I, an orange), and even a small piece of cheese with our water and vegetable soup. "Lal said that we should share this since it's too much for just us three," the man had laughed as he handed me a bowl with the cheese slice laid on top. It didn't escape my notice that he had made mine slightly larger than the others'. "Reborn said it was stupid, but even he listens to Lal when she's being generous."

"Shut up, Colonello," the woman growled as she gave another of our group a small loaf of bread. "Less slacking, more working."

I had stopped sucking on my fruit, orange juice dribbling down my chin when the black-haired boy had said that. "What?" I asked, pulling my teeth out of the skin.

He didn't answer for a bit, only staring at his apple before looking back up to stare at the sky. "You're not the same as the rest of this crowd. I want to show you something later."

He refused to speak to me the rest of the day.

But, as I headed back to the barracks behind the others, I felt calloused fingers grasp my wrist before tugging me in another direction entirely. "Wait, the overseers-"

"They know," he replied, not looking at me. "They're watching, so keep walking." Sure enough, when I turned to look back, all three of them were watching us depart, speaking in whispers. The man, Colonello, raised his hand and waved, grinning as he elbowed the woman. Lal, however reluctantly, also raised her hand in a parting wave. Reborn made no pronounced gesture, but tipped his hat forward ever so slightly in silent farewell.

I wonder if they, too, thought I was different.

…

I've always found it strange how how things are described differently between places. Throughout much of Vongola, descriptions of place shift from largest to smallest. Earth, Eurasia, Russo District was my location at the time; frankly, I don't know it much more exact than that. Not that I would have a use for the information if I did. Out west, though, out in Millefiore, I've heard that locations are described from small to large. I wonder if it ever confuses them when they search on a map. Down south in the Bharat Region (recently lost to Giglio Nero; Vongola was then engaged in war with them, and before that, with Millefiore), too, I've heard that objects are described in the negative: the shapes of their shadows, the color of the floor around them, how the light reflects off of them onto a nearby wall, etc. Curious indeed.

The black-haired boy took us in a circle. Far off in the distance, across the field from the barracks, I could make out the shape of a large structure; a mansion, really, or a manor, with light walls and dark roofs. Having no use anymore for glasses with which to correct my far-sighted sight, I had discarded them before the train from Incarsyon. It wasn't like I had thought there would be anything to read, let alone for _me_ to read, where I had been going. We didn't head towards it, though; instead, we went around the barracks, into the tree thicket on the other side.

The wind flowed through the forest's inhabitants, rocking the shadows of their tops on the ground in gentle circles. It sang a soft lullaby, accompanied by the inhabitants' murmured rustles. Light slanted in between them, scattered pinpricks of light visible in the dust that rose of the path we walked on, which wound through them like a lazy snake. There were only three sounds: our breathing (my breathing; he seemed not to lose a single breath), our bare feet on the path (my feet; he seemed to glide over the dusty ground), and the lullaby above our heads (far more soothing than any song I had ever heard from my own parents).

As we kept walking, though, I began to see colors between the inhabitants. Overlapping layers of dark and light color, unnatural pigment, could be seen, barred by vertical stripes both thick and thin. As we moved closer, the thin gave way for thick, and the spaces of unnatural color became wider. A mansion of some sort, or a manor, with off-white walls and dark terra cotta roofs. I could make out the shapes of many small structures, across the field from the manor, far off in the distance.

He didn't let me stare long; on the contrary, he tugged me along, my feet dragging until he growled for me to keep walking. Not wanting to upset my friend, I complied.

…

"Ah, Kyouya! You're later than usual."

The blond man with the laundry basket stopped short when he saw us- or rather, he saw only the black-haired boy. Kyouya. What a nice name.

"I was picking something up," the b- Kyouya replied, gesturing vaguely in my direction. I wonder why I did not take offense at being referred to nebulously as "something". Perhaps I was too engrossed in staring at the ornate insides of the manor, far more regal than anything I had ever seen previously. Small wonder, too; though my family had been allotted a good house, as far as houses for three went, it was small and plain.

The man hoisted the basket up a bit to get a better grip, peering around at me; I hid behind Kyouya, feeling timid in the man's presence. It had been so long since I had had a proper conversation with anyone else. "And who's this?"

Kyouya elbowed me. "Ts- Tsuna," I stuttered, peering around my friend. "I- I'm pleased to meet you."

He laughed, setting the basket on the floor before offering a hand. "Well, Tsuna, I'm Dino! Nice to meet you; it's not every day that the stray brings back foundlings." I wonder why I did not take offense at being referred to generally as "foundling" Perhaps it was because I found it odd for Kyouya to be called "stray," like a dog or a cat.

"He needs clothes," Kyouya said, interrupting in our conversation.

I blinked. About to say that I felt find in my linens, I was again interrupted when Dino hummed in thought, stroking a nonexistent beard thoughtfully. "I think one of yours shrank in the wash a couple weeks ago," he said. "I know I kept it; it's probably in the supply closet, on the top of the piles. Think you can find it."

Kyouya scoffed. "You say that like there's a chance that I couldn't."

Dino laughed.

…

I had never felt silk before. Now, though, I was convinced that the material in my hands was at least some part silk.

"Well? What are you spacing out for?" Kyouya asked, tone impatient. "Put that on; we're going."

Gulping, I complied. He was already mostly changed, and from his appearance, I could see how I was expected to wear the clothing.

I buried my bare, calloused feet in white socks and black shoes, covered my bare, calloused hands in tight black gloves. I replaced my half-pants, thin from use and tan from sun-bleaching, with pressed black slacks, held by a belt so they would fit me. Tucked into this was a soft white button-down, over which went a dark vest. Before I could button it, however, he looped a long band of cloth around my neck.

Recognizing the material as a necktie, I faltered. "I- I can-" The words died in my throat, however, and that done, we left.

…

Once, when I was younger, I had had a strange dream.

I was a child then, perhaps ten or twelve. No, I must have been twelve, not long after that day in the humid classroom with the cold Captain.

I had been fumbling with a set of clothes. The area I was in was dark, and I seemed to be surrounded by an array of posters. Most beheld the image of a smiling man with white hair, accompanied by text, or else by the image of a heavily bandaged young boy with a gun and a regal air.

My fingers, unfamiliar with the garments, were clumsy as I tried to button the shirt and tie the tie.

Suddenly, though, a kind of warmth enveloped me, and a strange wind picked up from my feet. It blew away posters and darkness alike, leaving me alone in a pool of light, a blue sky above my head. Then a real warmth wrapped around me, and arms of someone I could neither see nor identify took my hands from behind, leading me. The voice, however, had a familiar ring to it, though I couldn't place it.

"_One day, you can help me back."_

I had never forgotten how to fasten a necktie.


	4. Chapter 4

The main difference between the doors to the Office and the doors to every other room in the mansion was, there were two of them. Which struck me as strange, because I had only ever seen double doors on rooms meant to be shared by multiple people, in order to accommodate the crowds' comings and goings.

Kyouya rapped on right door with his knuckles, which struck me as strange. Perhaps because I had never imagined someone with a controlling air like Kyouya's would need to knock on doors. "Sir, the company is here," he called, again surprising me.

A muffled voice replied that the door was open.

He opened the door only just enough for us to slip through, shutting it with a dull thud behind us. Again, I stared in amazement. Spacious and well-kept, this had surely once been a lodging for nobility. Noticing that Kyouya had his head and eyes lowered directly ahead, I could not help but stare.

All the lights were off, and instead, orange sunset light slanted in through the wide window, in front of which sat a large desk. There was a click as the desk lamp was turned off. It was a good ways off from where we were, but the silhouette of a man presented an impressive figure.

"Get the lights," the man said, straightening up from where he had been leaning against the front of the desk. My friend complied wordlessly.

As the artificial lighting hummed to life, I was presented with a face to match the impressive silhouette and matured voice. Two resolute, fiery eyes, with explosively messy blond hair. The man was dressed in a pinstripe suit, and he walked towards us soundlessly, even when his shoes should have clicked against sections of floorboard between carpet. "And who's this?"

Kyouya elbowed me, and I rushed to drop my head and eyes. "Tsuna," I replied. "I'm Tsuna."

The man hummed in thought. "Tsuna," he repeated, letting the name roll off of his tongue. It had an air of familiarity to it, but the tone was impossible to decipher further. "Well, welcome; I'm Giotto. Kyouya here," he gestured to the one also bowing next to me, "Has suggested over a period of weeks that you would be more suited to work here in the manor than out in the field, and I trust his judgement. Therefore, you have been brought here." A hand hovered near me for a moment before coming to rest on my shoulder. "Do your best, Tsuna; for the good of the Varia, Byakuran, and the entirety of Vongola."

…

We were in a branch of the Vindice; I knew that without having to ask. I did, however, ask the name of the manor. "Namimori," Giotto said, shortly before sending us both off with a smile. "I'm not familiar with it, but Byakuran said it meant something like 'normalcy' in some ancient language." He laughed, remarking on how Byakuran knew everything.

…

It was late, so before anything else, Kyouya ushered me away from the Office. Only once we had reached some sort of bedroom did he stop, close the door, and let me breathe.

One rather plain bed in the relative center of a square room, with the headboard pushed up against the wall. Some kind of metal frame, probably, and it was normal-sized for one person. Across from the door we had just come through was a window, and through the closed curtains, I could see that it was dark. In the near left corner was a wooden wardrobe, and on the far right was a closet door. Across from the closet was a desk, and across from the wardrobe was another door. It took me a bit to understand what was strange about the plain room.

"The walls," I said, "are bare."

Indeed, there were no posters, writings, or images on the walls. Just plain white.

"One's in the closet," Kyouya replied, hand still on the doorknob. There was no lock. "The other's in the wardrobe. They're tasteless, really, and I don't need someone smiling at me when I'm trying to sleep."

He put a hand on my shoulder and steered me to the nearer door. "Go take a shower; you smell like sweat."

…

We pretended not to know each other. Else, he really did not remember who I was, had been.

…

When I stumbled out of the steam-filled bathroom, Kyouya threw a towel at me. He sat on the bed and looked the other way, so I wondered how he aimed so well. Actually, on second thought, he might have looked for a moment, because his ears were slightly red.

As he passed me with another towel and a bundle of clothes in tow, he muttered something under his breath. The door closed behind him, only to open again and spew out steam and the clothes he had given me earlier.

Curious, I walked over to the wardrobe; I was sure he wouldn't mind.

The door opened with a creak. Left, then right. The left one creaked less. All of the clothes on their hangers were pushed onto the left side, though there were only two sets of clothes; they were just divided into different articles. Behind them, though, that was where my attention found itself.

A heavily bandaged young boy with a gun. Bermuda, the model citizen everyone strove to be like.

…

Once, I made the mistake of saying that I believed in magic.

The entire squadron turned and stared at me, and I could feel their judging eyes, hidden behind white ceramic.

The Captain came over and tapped his foot. "Repeat that."

"I believe in magic. Belief brings us out of despair."

The Captain's mouth twisted into a frown. "The entirety of Vongola was in chaos and disorder a number of years ago; surely you remember this. And in that mess, Byakuran brought the entire country out of collapse. He restructured the government and leveled the social pyramid. Can you still say that it is _belief_ that brings us out of despair?"

I looked right back at him. He had said that I should become stronger, so I had decided in my heart that I would. If integrity was the very last inch of me, then it was the one inch that I intended to keep at all costs. "They exist. Magic and miracles... they both exist."

"No." The Captain turned and walked back to the front of the squadron. "There is only loyalty, and lack of it will get you killed."

I knew, then, if I had not known before.

One day I would be removed.

…

When he came out of the shower, Kyouya threw a wad of clothing at me, coloring again. "Why are you _still_ wearing _only_ a towel?"

"I wasn't sure if I was supposed to wear something else," I replied, picking a sock out of my hair.

"I don't care what the authority says, you shouldn't be near-naked in front of people," he replied, walking quickly over to the wardrobe. Opening the door, he picked some clothes off the hangers and threw them at me. "Put those on, and do it quick."

Not wanting to upset my friend, I complied. Once I had done that, he turned back around and walked towards me. "Where should I sleep?" I asked.

"On the bed," he answered.

That struck me as strange, because I had never heard of two people, unmarried, sharing a bed. "Where will you sleep?" I asked.

"On the bed," he answered.

… _Well._

"That would be cramped."

"You don't look like you take up that much space."

"You said that I smelled."

"You took a shower, so you're fine now."

"But you didn't want to see me."

"Well, you're wearing clothes, aren't you?"

Walking over to the bed- I got up-, he threw the covers off, hopped to the far side, sat down and stared at me.

We stayed that way for at least a minute before I gave up and got in the bed. He threw the covers over us, and I guess we went to sleep with the lights on.


	5. Chapter 5

I awoke to find that Kyouya had his arms around me from behind.

He awoke to the sound of me screaming.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, mumbling the words into my hair.

Unable to turn my head to look at at him, I panicked and tried to speak. "I- um- you- can you- uh…" I swallowed my words, trying to calm myself down before speaking again. "Could you please move your hands?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, shifting slightly.

"Other direction, please."

"Oh. Sorry." He didn't really _sound_ sorry, but I figured that was the best I'd get, and sighed in relief when he sat up and yawned.

A knock came on the door. "Tsuna? Kyouya? Are you alright?" It was Giotto's voice.

Kyouya didn't speak for a moment, so I sat upright as calmly as I could and answered: "Yes! We're fine; I just thought there was something on the ceiling!"

There was a short pause before I could almost see Giotto shrugging to himself. "Please be careful; it would be unfortunate if we disturbed someone who was still sleeping." Then followed the sounds of footsteps slowly leading away.

Neither Kyouya nor I moved for a few seconds, before he spoke. "We should get ready." As he took his time getting out of and making the bed, I bolted for the bathroom to wash my face and try to clear my head in the process.

The black-haired boy from Laoyu was going to be the death of me, I just knew it. It would happen.

When I got out, Kyouya was sitting on the far side of the bed- his side, though our culture dictated that it was everyone's side of the bed… that thought made me uncomfortable. He was already dressed, and I briefly wondered why, _how_ those who worked in the manor had such nice clothes. Only briefly, though, because he threw a wad of clothes at me. "Those are yours," he said, pausing for a bit before absently whistling a small tune.

"These are everyone's," I answered without thinking, pausing briefly before changing.

…

At that time, I had spent three days there, and broken just as many things. First went a vase- Giotto said it was alright, because it was an old thing that represented old ideals- then came a plate- Giotto said it was alright, because it could probably be mended, and if not, easily replaced- and I had just managed- _somehow_- to knock something made of glass off of a table when Giotto came through the door, stopped for a moment, then sighed, smiled, and asked me to follow him upstairs.

I hadn't been in the Office again after the first night, and it was daytime now, so I could see everything in the room that I previously hadn't been able to, either due to nerves or poor lighting. "Um-" I began, but Giotto put his hand up to request silence. I complied.

"It's fine," he said, then smiled. "I was going to send that to be melted and remade into something more useful, anyway. Decorations are pointless when others need the material."

I nodded dumbly for a moment before trying to speak again. "Uh, thank you… sir."

Giotto stared at me with wide eyes before laughing and slapping his knee. He leaned casually against the front side of the desk. "'Sir' makes me feel old," he chuckled, orange eyes sparkling with mirth. "And a bit treasonous. You can call me Giotto, you know? Everyone's equal."

"Then–"

Another chuckle, softer this time. "Kyouya doesn't like to call me by my name. It makes him uncomfortable." Now that he mentioned it, I had never heard the black-haired boy say anyone's name. Dino had introduced himself and revealed Kyouya's name in the process, and Giotto had introduced himself too. My friend never called me by name, only using "you" if he wanted to call my attention, and "sir" if he was speaking to Giotto. (Once, he had used "that idiotic klutz standing over there" as a pronoun.)

There passed several seconds of silence. I felt a little sad, mostly in that my best friend couldn't call me by name. Then Giotto smacked himself on the forehead, breaking both the silence and the tension. "Oh, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about at all!"

He laughed, and I laughed a bit with him. Turning around, he snatched something small and rectangular off of the desk before walking over and handing it to me. "Here."

"What is it?" I asked. At so close a distance, All I could see was a rectangle of black.

"Open it."

He let me fumble with the thing- some kind of case- for a few moments before I finally found a flap with a clasp. Twisting it open, I just barely managed to catch what tumbled out. _I've lost my edge_, I thought.

"… Glasses?"

"Yup! Try them on, go ahead."

"… They're perfect." Suddenly the world came into focus, and I remember I almost fell over from how clear everything was. I could see the individual white stripes on Giotto's navy pants, which I had previously thought to be gray; I could see how many holes the buttons on his shirt cuffs had; I could see the tiny silver lettering on the black case. _A gift._ "How did you-"

Giotto laughed again. "Not me; it was Byakuran. Byakuran knows everything."

…

It scares me, just a little bit, how two people who look so alike can act so different.

…

"He" scares me, but "He" is everything.

Therefore, everything scares me.

I am afraid.

Of all.

Eyes.

…

"No, you pick it up, dust the whole thing, then put it down. What's the point of picking it up _after_ you've dusted that area?"

"Nothing," I replied, and gingerly tried to pick up one of the many aging cups lined up, unused, in the kitchen cupboard. Kyouya winced when it knocked against the cupboard door. "S- sorry."

He sighed. "It's fine, but don't make me tell you every day."

"Why do we need all these utensils? There are only four of us in the manor, I think?"

Kyouya sighed again, scrubbing a pot. "There are usually six- two do the cooking for everyone, but they're out today to pick up ing- rations. They're allotted a certain amount of material to use to cook for everyone on the plantation over the week, and they pick it up every seventh day."

"Saturday?"

"Yes."

"Okay." I went back to dusting, though Kyouya still hadn't answered my question.

"Sometimes others come by the mansion to speak with that man." 'That man' referred to Giotto, I was sure. "That's when we need all the utensils."

"Oh."

We kept working as Kyouya explained that the kitchen was cleaned while the cooks were away, just as- before- "the blond one" had cleaned his room whenever he worked in the fields. Now that was my job, since it was also cleaning up after myself. "That man" mostly stayed inside his office, or otherwise in the building, as his health had been deteriorating for a while, resulting in one or two heart attacks and more than a few asthma attacks in the years Kyouya had been here. (He did not care to remember how many, just as he found no interest in age.) Over the past week or two, however, he had been much better, and seemed happier as well.

I asked him how he knew so much about our "home". He gave me no answer.

…

As we left the kitchen to begin cleaning the hallway, I found something on the floor. "Kyouya, what's this?" I asked, holding up the white bundle.

"That's 'his'," he replied, walking over. "Where'd you find it?"

I pointed to the spot where I had found it, between two legs of a thin table meant to hold a vase. "It's crumpled, so it probably fell off the tabletop?"

He didn't reply for a few moments, alternating between looking the table up and down and glancing at the white cloth in my hand. He held out his own. "Give it to me; I'll return it later."

When I handed the cloth over, he flicked his hand to spread it out, revealing a white handkerchief bordered in a dark orange. A small and ornate "I" was embroidered in one corner in the same color. Kyouya folded it and tucked it into his back pants pocket in what appeared as one fluid motion, as though he did this everyday.

"Does Giotto keep dropping his handkerchief?" I asked, curious about the efficiency.

Kyouya looked at me for a moment. "He keeps leaving it in places. I have to keep returning it, so I'm used to it. It's fine."

"Well, so long as he gets it back?" I replied. "Though, technically, it's not his."

He sighed. "That's a cultural issue," he said, turning to scrape a black glob of _something_ off the wall. "I'll go out to work after lunch."

…

After I had left the fields to work in the manor, Kyouya stopped working near the others in the field. He still handed his basket to Reborn, Colonello, or Lal, and left with minimal interaction; but now, he worked in a area almost as far away as possible from the other workers.

I could see him out the window I was cleaning.

… _You're very lonely, aren't you?_


	6. Chapter 6

_I would like to apologize for the long wait. Readers of "Repeat" will probably also have a while, as I would like to finish writing chapter seven of "Incarsyon" before I get to "Repeat". But anyway, the reason for this prologue is not so much to apologize as to warn you. This is the chapter that contains **implied sexual abuse**, so people who are uncomfortable with that may turn back at any time!_

_I am not entirely sure about the rating, so please let me know if you believe it should be changed to "M"; normally I would err on the side of rating a story above what it needs, but I do believe a mature thirteen-year old would understand perfectly well. (However, I can't say that all thirteen-year olds would be able to handle it…)_

* * *

I bolted upright when the door burst open. It was the middle of the night, Kyouya wasn't next to me, and I tried not to scream (and, thankfully, I succeeded). I'm really not good with ghosts- at all- and the pale, whitish form that swayed at the door certainly looked like one, and with no visible head.

When it moved- or rather, staggered- I was already grabbing for the glasses Giotto had given me- _my_ glasses. I was surprised- or horrified, more like- to realize that it was Kyouya, head bowed and legs behaving like a newborn deer's. He didn't seem to have any pants, shoes, or socks, and his shirt was barely on, slipping down to his elbows and barely covering his… um…

He was right next to me when we- well, I- fell asleep, so that means that he left without me noticing. And he came in without noticing me, it seems, because he collapsed on the bed and didn't move. I squeaked in surprise (he landed on top of me), and he turned his head slightly after a pause. "Oh, it's you," he said. His voice was really raspy. "I'm moving."

And he got up on those unsure legs, tottered over to the dresser, and kind of… pulled all the clothes off the hangers and buried himself under them. It didn't seem very comfortable, but he didn't move after that.

I got out of bed, and closed the door before going over. "Kyouya, are you alright?" Obviously he wasn't, but, well…

"Go away," he replied, muffled under what I think was some kind of jacket. "I'm tired."

"You'll catch a cold if you sleep there," I said, starting to pick clothes off of him to fold and put back in the closet. "Just-"

"_No._" The glare he gave me was so intense that I stopped what I was doing. He turned his head to look at the wall. "Go back to sleep. I'm dirty."

"Then take a shower?" I offered. "I'll help y-"

"Absolutely not."

When I tried to check his temperature, he put his hands on my face and pushed backwards, covering my eyes. "Don't look at me; I don't want to see your kind of face right now."

I sat there for five minutes, maybe, waiting until I thought he was asleep before starting to pick up the clothes again. His eyes snapped open when I yelped. "Um, Kyouya, your legs-"

He curled up more, hiding himself. "Don't touch it," he said. But it was already on my hand- a pale, whitish fluid that was slightly gummy to the touch…

He caught my wrist. "That's disgusting. Go wash your hands."

Not wanting to upset my friend, I complied. But caring about my friend, I came back, this time with a damp towel. He kicked when he felt it; I barely managed to not get my nose bashed in and quickly backed a short distance away. "What are you doing!?" he hissed. Like a stray cat.

"Trying to help," I replied. I remember trying to sound stern, the way my mother did the first time I came home battered and bruised, but didn't want her to treat me. She, though I hadn't told her, must have known that I was trying to become a stronger person. She didn't want me to change in that way, I think. "It's going to cake if it dries, and then it'll be crusty and probably itchy."

He managed to smirk. "You sound like you… have experience with this," he breathed out, apparently skirting the line between about to fall asleep and about to fall unconscious.

Suddenly the room felt a bit hot, and I pulled at my collar. "N- not really," I replied, turning my head. His smirk grew wider, but he still batted at my hand when I tried to move in again. "Th- that's just what normally happens when something is gooey. Like… snot." It wasn't a particularly nice example, but it was a usable example nonetheless.

With a slight groan, he pushed himself up. "Fine; I'll do it," he wheezed. "You're stubborn. Do me a favor and find something I can wear instead." I relented, realizing that this could be the only way to get him back in bed. I was worried.

As he did his business, I thought about where else there would be clothes that would fit Kyouya… besides on the floor with him, of course. Remembering the other closet, I climbed over the bed and went to take a look. Sure enough, there were cleaning supplies and some extra clothes- obviously his, since we were the only ones to use the room, and I hadn't ever bothered the check this closet.

He seemed to have almost a mild obsession with the idea of cleanliness, so I didn't think much of the cleaning supplies… at the time. He caught things that I had missed during housecleaning and fixed them immediately, and he took at least two showers each day. Even if I left the room a little late in the morning, in a complete mess after rushing my morning routine, I would always come back in the afternoon to find it neat and orderly and spotless.

I handed the clothes to him, careful not to look. Only when he tugged my pant leg did I put my hand down. Almost like a see-saw, he put his up at the same time. "Help me up," he said; not a command or request, but a flat statement. His face- or his eyes, rather- said that he didn't want to ask for help, but needed it and knew it. I helped him limp over to the bed, half carrying him, before going and turning off the lights, then getting under the covers myself.

"Will you talk to me now?" I asked, concern showing in my voice. "It's dark, so you won't have to look at my face."

There was a pause, in which I wondered if he'd already fallen asleep. Then he spoke. "Dominance… it's a battle for the position of Alpha," he breathed out. "An ongoing one." He turned over and muttered something. I think that I wasn't supposed to hear, but I did, and once he fell asleep, I lay awake, having finally realized the situation.

"… _And I keep losing."_

…

Some mornings, the Captain would ask us questions. If we didn't know the answer, the silence was deafening. Nobody wanted to be singled out. "The nail that sticks out gets hammered back in," as my father said once, when I was very little. That must've been a time before Byakuran… did such a time exist? I'm tired…

It might've been around autumn that day, or even early winter. Snow was falling outside the window. The Captain would bark at us, it seemed, in a tone that said that he held the reigns. "You discover a follower of Unian Principles! What do you do?"

All of us would shout in reply, as though a drilled regiment… perhaps it should be said: we were not soldiers. We were not soldiers, but we were fighters. Fighters for the stability of our nation. What was then _my_ nation. "Alert the nearest Varia member!"

"And if there are none?"

"Tell a Group Leader!"

"What if that Follower is your friend?"

"Threats to the unity of Vongola will not go unpunished!"

"A family member?"

"Blood means nothing in the face of Justice!"

Suddenly the Captain's voice dropped, as did the surrounding temperature. "And if that Follower is one, or even both of your parents? What do you do then?"

Everyone froze. To me, the answer was obvious, but I felt the hesitation in everyone else's bodies before the first question was even finished. Perhaps others felt the same way, perhaps they didn't. The Captain tapped his foot. "Well?"

The classroom remained silent. Every member of the Future Party, male or female, began looking about at those around them, cautious. Whispers began to circulate in the back, where I was, but I stood straight and silent.

When the Captain began walking around the squadron, those nearest to him stood stock still, frozen in fear. When he reached me, however, in the back corner, he stopped. I could feel his gaze traveling up and down, looking me over. I remember feeling a cold sweat run down my neck, and standing still, looking forward anyway. Controlling my fear, even when he came and stood directly in front of me.

The Captain's hand rose up, and he poked my forehead with two fingers. "Answer."

I swallowed thickly; I remember thinking that my saliva tasted oily. My mother gave me an extra piece of cheese that day, I think. "Blood means nothing in the face of Justice," I repeated, quietly.

Though I couldn't see them, I could tell that his eyes narrowed. He replied to me in an equally quiet voice. "Louder. If something is unfit to be said in front of an audience, there is no point to it." Here, he turned and looked at everyone. "Your every movement, every _word_ every _thought-_" his eyes swept around the room, looking at everyone one-by-one before landing back on me, "-must be for the good of the collective. Say it again."

"B- Blood means nothing in the face of Justice!" I must've shouted it louder than I'd thought, because I could hear my own voice echoing down the hallway outside. Or maybe it was all in my head?

"Do you all hear that?" the Captain roared as he went back to the front. "We _will not_ tolerate threats to the greater good. Blood means nothing in the face of justice! And this includes-" here, he paused, and his voice went back to normal volume. "-And this includes when blood of the guilty is spilt."

I was kind of dazed for the rest of the day.

…

"Eek!"

We both froze for a few moments before I cracked my eyes open, orange meeting orange. His left hand was outstretched and just barely pressed against the left side of my neck, his right pressing a thick file folder to his chest. My left hand was still raised where I had been meaning to tap him on the shoulder, while my right was crossed over my chest, having blocked his hand from hitting anything vital in a grip which I could easily have used to snap his wrist.

A tense silence hung over the air until Giotto blinked, then laughed. "Um… I'm really sorry about that," he said. "I didn't mean to hit you or anything; reflexes, I suppose."

"The… uh… The same for me," I replied, letting his arm go. "I hope I didn't hurt you or anything."

"Mmm… nope, think I'm still in one piece." Comically, he scrutinized his arm as though to make sure that any wounds had healed and battle scars faded away. "Just… we'll both have to… try to be more careful about being less on guard."

I nodded dumbly, before noticing something odd. "Uh, Giotto, is your hair… darker?"

He blinked before pinching his bangs. "I'm surprised you noticed, actually. My hair is bleached; I don't think you'd ever find someone with hair that's actually _yellow_, all things considered." He laughed at his own joke, and I reinforced his awkward chuckle with my own unsure stutter. "I think I'll leave it to grow out; it's a hassle to keep it light, and not very worth it."

"What color is it supposed to be?"

"Brown. Bit lighter than yours, but brown." He shrugged. "I've heard it called 'sienna' or 'copper' before, but saying 'brown' works just fine."

"R- right. Newspeak equal less speak."

He blinked for a moment, then smiled. "Plus good! Newspeak equal less speak, less speak equal plus understand." He paused. "Of course, it's still a work in progress, so for now, it doesn't really matter which 'speak' we use."

There stretched a small silence until I, again, took the initiative to change the subject. "What's the folder for?"

Giotto looked down at the object in his right hand as though seeing it for the first time. "What, this?" he asked. "Oh yeah; Tsuna, ca- may I ask you a favor?"

"Of course."

"I need to go out for a few days- I should be back by the fourth day- so I need you to let the cooks know, and tell Dino that I'm putting him and Kyouya in charge I mean- there's no _real_ hierarchy here, but they've been here the longest and all… well, that's not true, but they've had experience with the most work. Got that?"

I saluted, and he laughed, so I laughed with him. It was kind of funny at the time, but in retro- um… what's the word? Retrospecs? Oh, retrospect! That's it. It was kind of funny at the time, but in retrospect, it was also a bit choked and sad. Anyway, when I turned to go, he stopped me again.

"Also," he added on. I turned around when his hand landed on my shoulder. He was looking off to the side and a bit towards the ground. "Can you tell Kyou- mmm, actually, never mind. I'll tell him myself after we get all these issues straightened out."

With those muttered phrases, he allowed me to leave.

…

"Excuse me," I said, poking my head around the doorframe.

The smell of wonderful cooking was everywhere, and it made my mouth water. My real target, though, wasn't securing a meal- that kind of thing was easy, if you were patient. A boy with smooth honey-blond hair tied into a short ponytail, around my age, and an older woman with white-blond hair held in a bun turned to face me from where they had been, respectively, attending to a large pot and frying pan on the stove and chopping vegetables at the counter to the right of the stove.

The woman made some sort of gesture, and the boy approached me, wiping his hands on his apron. "You are excused," he said with a slight accent, smiling. He had nice blue eyes, like water. "Is there a thing which you are requiring?"

"Um." My voice caught a bit; I wasn't used to hearing people who didn't speak almost exactly like I did, so this took a bit of time. "Giotto- he wanted me to tell you that he would be gone for… four days."

The boy clapped his hands together, smiling. "Ah, I see. Giotto is going four days, yes?"

I nodded. He laughed, and it sounded like the pot bubbling. Behind him, the woman watched us with her red-brown eyes while she turned something over in the pan. "I have not seen you before, I believe. What might your name be?"

"Ts- Tsuna. My name is Tsuna."

He nodded. "'Tsu-nah'. It sounds like the fish, yes?" He laughed and smiled a lot, I noticed. He motioned something, flapping his arms. "The big fish? Which lives in ocean? Can be red or white- the meat."

It didn't take me too long to figure out what he was trying to say, thankfully. "Ah, yes, tuna! I- I've been told that sometimes." We both shared a few moments of laughter before he spoke again.

"I am Basil. Behind me is my-" his face screwed up for a moment, trying to pronounce the word, "sis-tear. She is Oregano." I was about to comment when he beat me to the punch line. "We look not alike, you think?" He laughed, waving his hand towards his right. "Oregano looks like mother; I look like grandmother on father's side."

"We had a brother," Oregano supplied, not looking at us. Her speech was less accented, but much more simple. "His name was Turmeric. He died when we come here. He looked like our father."

Basil looked how I felt: slightly surprised that Oregano had spoken at all, wondering if he should speak or not. In the end, when she stopped talking, he continued. "Turmeric was big, strong," he said, gesturing what I think meant "large" again. "Very powerful. 'Threat', I think they said."

Oregano said something sharply, which I didn't understand. Perhaps it was in another language. Basil quipped back, before turning to me again. "Oregano says we need to keep work. Too many mouths which are needing to be fed," he said, apologetic. "I enjoy the talk. With you. I hope we can talk again?"

I was stupefied for a moment before I realized that he was waiting expectantly. "Um- yes! I hope so too!"

…

I get tired easily since I started telling my story. It's a burdensome story, I know that.

…

Once, just once, someone in our squadron took off their mask and showed us all their face.

The Captain was speaking much quieter that day. He seemed somewhat resigned, as though he had just seen a thousand die needlessly before his eyes. Neither did he sound sick at all; his voice was clear, if only a bit choked back. His quietness was not forced, but… weighted. Remorseful. Burdened.

"Does anyone here know why we wear masks in this company?" he asked, sitting on an old wooden bench. We were outside that day, a rare event. We didn't line up like we usually did, and instead sort of mobbed together on the grass, like a group of children waiting for the storyteller to begin, all huddled in the shade of a large tree. He looked about at us, back hunched over a bit, forearms resting on his thighs, supporting his upper half.

We looked about at each other, but did not speak or indicate a desire to. He straightened a bit, then pointed to someone not near where I was sitting. There was a short silence, and he nodded. I suppose whoever it was pointed at herself to request confirmation. "Faces are a large part of individuality," a female voice said, sounding a little bit shaky. "Because we support equality, we need to be able to lose our biased eyesight and look at each other equally."

The Captain nodded, sitting back up fully. He leaned backwards this time, arms supporting him at an angle. "That's exactly correct," he told us. "Faces are a large part of recognition. Of course, we can recognize people in other ways: height, voice, strength, body type, et cetera."

He took off his mask.

I remember thinking that he looked beautiful. Whatever God- if such a thing really did exist- may have designed such a face must have believed in simple beauty; pale face, pale eyes, pale hair. He had a slightly long, yet delicate face, and thin eyebrows. That dusty blond (tan?) hair was tousled more than usual, I noticed, and it was messy. Thin lips pressed into a slight frown with the rigidity of a sergeant major. But the _eyes_. The eyes were narrow and just a little bit iridescent, making it difficult to tell whether they were blue or violet.

"You're all staring," he continued, still keeping his mask off of his face. "You find my face to be more interesting than the faces of those around you. And why is that, do you think?" He paused.

"It is because I am different."

…

I was humming some invented tune to myself, ambling back down the hallway. Basil was nice; Oregano, too, though she was much less talkative. I wonder, when had they arrived at Namimori? They both had accents, so they most certainly weren't from Vongola… or, at least, nowhere near my area or Kyouya's. Perhaps they were from Millefiore, or were people of Vongola who had lived in that area.

It was when I was turning a corner that Dino almost bowled me over. As it was, we both stopped short, and some folded clothes tumbled out of the overloaded basket he was carrying. "Whoops! Sorry, Tsuna!" he said when I bent down to pick them up. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"Before that, Giotto-"

He laughed. "Oh, yeah, Giotto's leaving for a couple days, right? No biggie. The main problem'll be if… uh… what's his name again?" He fell silent for a few moments, thinking, before giving up. "Anyway, if you a guy with whitish hair comes by and says that he needs to speak with Giotto- this is before he gets back- then just tell him that he'll be back soon, 'kay? That guy'll probably stay however long as is necessary, so just get him settled and let Basil or Oregano know, 'cause they need to cook for an extra person and stuff. You know who they are, right?"

I nodded, and he continued. "Also, I need to ask for your help with the washing. Starting… now would be great."

We laughed a bit, and I helped him carry the hamper to the laundry room. "Why is there so much today?" I asked.

He clucked his tongue at a frayed shirt with a hole in the side before making to throw it in a washer, stopping, and tossing it over onto a pile instead. "Everyone on Namimori gets new clothes every other month. Well… as new as we can get. So we have to get all those cleaned, sorted, repaired, whatever. Grab that box over on the shelf, will you? Second from the bottom. No, not that one, the orange one on the other end."

He began pouring some sort of powder into a spoon, upending it into one of the washing machines before clapping the lid down. It immediately popped back open, and he muttered something that sounded like "there's a difference between 'warped' and 'broken', dammit" before slamming it again with more force. When it remained shut, he turned a dial and the machine clunked to life.

As that began, two others stopped, and he instructed me to pull the clothes out into another basket so they could be hung up to dry. As we both worked, he hummed to himself.

…

Every time I say I'm tired, I keep writing. Maybe I just want to get everything out. All these experiences, these memories, these painful sores… I don't want them anymore. They're making me tired.

They are so heavy.

…

I had the fortune to be the last to see Giotto before he left.

I was walking by, soaking wet, on my way back to me and Kyouya's room. I had, somehow, managed to slip and tumble into a patch of mud while helping Dino to carry the washing. Thankfully, none of the clothes were soiled, but Dino sprayed me down with a garden hose before he let me go inside. Said that water was easier to clean up than mud.

He had his hand on the handle of the front door, a surprisingly small satchel slung on his shoulder, and a beaten-down black newsboy cap on his head. I distinctly remember him wearing khaki pants held up by black suspenders and a white dress shirt. With his young looks, too, we could have been brothers. "Oh, hey Tsu- uh…"

"I'm sorry about the water," I said. My socks were flopping and squelching on the ground, so I was glad to stop a bit and cease the awful sound of them. "Are you leaving now? It's getting dark."

He chuckled. "Nah, it's fine. Water goes away. And yeah. But I'll be fine. Moon should be bright tonight; I'll just need to watch out for stray lightning bolts." He laughed at his own joke, but I was too fatigued to react much. "Tsuna, could you do me another favor?"

I bit my lower lip. "That would depend on what the favor is. If within my range of ability, perhaps."

He began looking anywhere else but at me again. "Just… to make sure Kyouya sits still for a while. He needs to take it easy and… I've asked him to work more at home. He works hard here, and then goes out and works some more… it's not good for him."

That took me by surprise. I was happy that I would be able to spend more time with my friend (probably), but… "home"….

"Um, I'll do my best. I'm not sure if he'll listen much to me, though…"

Giotto laughed again, opening the door. "Thanks. You know, he listens to you more than anyone else."

He stepped out, the door closed, and he was gone.

…

The morning after next, I had just finished helping Dino to carry the dishes from breakfast into the kitchen when _he_ arrived.

Three knocks on the door. I looked around, but everyone else seemed to be either busy or gone. Shrugging, I called, "Just a moment, please!" then moved to open the door.

The man who looked down at me with a slightly surprised expression had blue eyes and white-blond hair… _ah, this must be the "guy with whitish hair" that Dino mentioned_.

I shuffled my feet nervously. "Um, g- good morning. How may I help you?"

He seemed to relax when he heard my voice. "Good morning. Is Giotto available? I'd like to speak with him."

I dipped my head slightly. "N- no sir. He's gone right now, but he should be back by the day after tomor- would you like to come in? You can, uh, make yourself comfortable on the couch if you want."

I opened the door wider as he dipped his head back before stepping inside. As he passed me, he put a hand on my head and patted once before putting the hand back at his side. "You don't need to be formal with me; are you new here?"

"Um…"

Unsure of how to answer (because I really didn't know), I was trying to cover for myself when Kyouya went limping past and did it for me. (He claimed to be fully recovered, but I hadn't missed how he'd missed the floor and kicked the bedside table that morning. He kept dropping things when he took his morning shower, too; I could hear him.) "That kid came by about a month and a half ago," the black-haired boy from Laoyu said, stopping. "He hasn't left the building since."

I, the brown-haired boy from Incarsyon, spluttered. "Th- that's not true! I helped Dino with the washing the day before yesterday. We went _outside_ to hang it up."

He gave me a half-grin and a snort, the kind of reaction that said, "like I really care" and "are you _really_ going to argue with me about this" at the same time.

The white-haired man from who knows where twisted his mouth into a half-frown. Then he poked me on the forehead. "Do you mind moving? I want to close the door before more cold air gets in."  
"Oh, uh, right! Sorry!"

As I scooted out of the way, Kyouya's grin dropped into a frown. "How long are you planning on staying this time." The door clapped shut.

The other blinked for a moment, the man's pale blue eyes staring right back at the boy's blue-gray. "Somewhere between two days and a week. Why? You seem awfully disgruntled about it."

Kyouya mumbled something before limping on towards the kitchen.

"Um…" It was only when I made that small sound that the man turned to facc me again. "May I… ask your name? I'm Tsuna."

He held his hand out. "Alaude."


	7. Chapter 7

Alaude and I shook hands. His dwarfed mine, which had already become soft after a month and a half of easy labor and nightly contemplation. It was only then that I began to take notice of his dress. He was carrying a satchel of some sort, the long strap crossing from his right shoulder down across his chest. He was wearing dark pants and a dark jacket, with a simple orange band pinned to the left sleeve. _Ah, so this person is one of the Varia._

"If you would like to go sit on one of the couches over there, I would be glad to get you a drink," I said, pointing to the makeshift living room to the right and around the corner from the front door.

Adjusting the satchel's strap, he began walking towards the couch. "Water would be fine; thank you."

…

I forgot to mention: that morning, aside from Kyouya managing to hurt himself, he and I had a somewhat strange experience.

I had been trying to get Kyouya to wake up, shaking him and saying his name over and over. It was unlike him to sleep in but, well, I didn't really fault him for it. When he finally woke up, though, he immediately sat up, apparently shocked.

Needless to say, it was somewhat painful when our heads crashed together.

As I was nursing my sores, I opened my mouth to say "good morning". Instead, though I'm not sure why, the first thing to tumble out of my mouth was, "You have really nice eyes."

He looked at me as though I'd just told him that all the wheat in the field had spontaneously turned purple because there was an infestation of hummingbirds.

"I mean, I've never really seen that color before, and I think they're really nice to look at." I was most definitely rambling thoughtlessly. "And, in a way, I guess… I like how they're not… _bright_ like mine are, but they're really recognizable and all. And-"

"What time is it?"

"Um… almost breakfast time. I'd say we have about fifteen minutes or so."

Bolting out of bed, he ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. After a moment, though, he opened it again, zipping over to the closet to grab some clothes. As he went back into his new private quarters, he pointed at me. "We'll talk later."

…

I guess I was really happy to have someone new (to me) come to Namimori. I stayed pretty close to Alaude for several hours, talking to him and trying to make him feel comfortable (though he apparently came by a lot? That's what I inferred from everyone else's reactions to him) until Kyouya came and forcibly dragged me away to help him replace some lightbulbs down in the cellar.

"You don't like Alaude very much, do you?" I asked him, trying to touch the still-hot bulb. "Are you sure this is burnt out? It's still really hot."

"Yes. The filament snapped out while I was getting whetstones."

"The what snapped when you were getting what? Ow!"

"Careful. The filament is what lights up; when the bulb burns out, it snaps and becomes useless. Whetstones are used to sharpen blades; one of the supervisors came over yesterday and asked to have some delivered over. Help me carry them later."

"Oh. Okay."

I was about to continue speaking when, much to my surprise, Kyouya jumped in first. "And to answer your earlier question, no; I do not like that official very much."

"Why n- eek!" While I fumbled with the cooling lightbulb, the replacement slipped out of my left hand. Thankfully Kyouya caught it before it could fall too far. "Why not? He seems like a good person."

Though I couldn't see him because I was looking up and the flashlight was pointed at the light fixture, I could sense Kyouya's twisted frown in the silence that followed. "He may be a good person somewhere in there, but I don't think that he fulfills some of his responsibilities properly."

Responsibilities… were not something that I was particularly fond of at the time. Even now, I feel that I require certain amounts of freedom. I will admit, however, that complete and utter freedom is daunting and somewhat overwhelming.

I climbed down from the ladder, making for the switch to check the light. "I think he'd make a great father… in a different environment."

"Maybe; I wouldn't know."

…

I've never discussed mealtimes, have I? I'll do that now, then.

My experience with meals at Namimori was… almost like being in a school. By which I mean that we didn't officially have assigned seats, but we tended to sit in the same spots. Giotto often sat at the head of the table, but would occasionally switch it up and sit somewhere along the sides. The table itself was long and rectangular, probably able to seat ten or twelve people, even though were usually a mere four of us sitting to eat: Giotto, Dino, Kyouya, and me. Kyouya always went to the kitchen and brought my portion back with him, so I suppose I always thought that either Dino or Giotto did the cooking in between whatever else it was that they did. Sometimes, though, one of the supervisors would come over for dinner or breakfast. Usually it was Reborn, but sometimes Colonello and Lal would swing by in the mornings- they tended to be together, both in place and mindset. I would only later learn that Basil and Oregano really only left the kitchen during the night to sleep (aside from using the toilet, of course), when they would sleep in the room directly adjacent to it, connected by a door in case they woke up in the middle of the night to smell bread burning.

Anyway, Giotto usually sat at the head of the table, but sometimes he wouldn't. I think that he got tired of always having to act as a leader among us. We usually clumped to one end of the table; even Kyouya must have found it hard to sit so far apart from everyone else. When Giotto sat at the head of the table, Dino would usually sit at his right hand, then Kyouya at his left, and I on Kyouya's other side. When Reborn came over, though, either he or Giotto would sit on Dino's right side, and the other would sit at the head. Colonello and Lal sat next to each other next to Dino. (Thinking about it now, I wonder whether they had always sat opposite to Kyouya, or if that was only after I came and was seated next to him.)

The meals themselves didn't change much from the meals that I had gotten out in the field, aside from the fact that we sat in chairs at a table under a light, instead of on dirt under trees beneath the sun. At Namimori, though, I started to notice a slight pattern in the meals. We'd usually have more perishable goods like meat or eggs (a novelty) early in the week, and towards the end we would have vegetable soups or rice. Cheese was a rarity and treated almost like currency… except that, out in the field, everyone was always so hungry that they ate it almost immediately. In the mansion, Dino showed me how to melt the cheese over, for example, soup, so that it could be put on bread. Chocolate was something that was available to us in the mansion, but not in the field (because it would melt); but when I say that it was "available to us", I mean that we would receive maybe a square the size of my two thumbs together from the tip to the first joint once every other week, if we were lucky. I didn't mind, though. Kyouya wouldn't let me keep it in our room- he said that a bug infestation was the _last_ thing we needed- but I would always hold onto it… all day if I could, just nibbling slowly at it until it got dark, when I would savor the last bits before getting ready for bed.

That said, with Alaude here, our routine was changed by his presence alone. Dino all but pushed Alaude into the head seat (he looked somewhat surprised, but also resigned to it) before sitting on his left side. Kyouya sat on Alaude's right, pulling me into the seat next to him. After a moment, though, Kyouya got up and shepherded me into switching spots with him. (That hadn't made sense to me at the time.) Even Basil and Oregano came out, eating at the table next to Dino, with Basil seated in between the two adults. The meal wasn't much, just like always: warm bread, a slice or two of meat each depending on their body size (it was Tuesday… or maybe Wednesday? One of those two. Not a day where we'd usually have meat, I have to say), some mashed potatoes, and bits of greens.

We ate our lunch in near silence, but I felt slightly strange being seated between Kyouya and Alaude. It was like being stuck at a point between the past and the future. Partway through the meal, though, Alaude tapped my shoulder. "Don't leave the vegetables," he said when I looked up. "They're good for your health; don't let them go to waste."

I stuttered. "Oh, uh, sorry." Next to me, Kyouya stifled his laughter. (I don't think anybody else noticed- he's very good at hiding his emotions- but I could tell.)

"Is that enough for you? You're probably still growing."

"Um, yeah, it's fine. This is enough."

"Alright. If you need more, just say so, because Byakuran's efforts make sure that nobody in Vongola goes hungry."

"Right. I'll- I'll do that. Thank you for your concern."

Kyouya suddenly got up, saying he was going to go get a glass of water. I could hear him snickering in the kitchen.

…

It had been a while since I'd been out of the mansion, not counting helping Dino with the washing. It was strange to walk backwards in space and what seemed to be time: Kyouya and I followed the path around through the trees, and I realized why he had told me to change before we left. Those who work in the mansion had much nicer clothes than those who didn't, and the difference would have been all too obvious; like the animals that they are, humans can attack anything that they can scapegoat during periods of extreme stress. We were carrying the whetstones by using our (purposefully) too-big shirts as a sort of pocket in front.

Because it was just a little bit past lunch, all the workers were out in the field. The supervisors, like always, were sitting on or next to the store shed, talking in quiet voices. Reborn was the first to notice us (I saw the slight tilts of his neck and head), but Colonello was the first to react: he stood up and walked over to us, meeting us halfway. "Hey," he greeted me, waving his hand.

"H… hey," I replied.

"Haven't seen you in a while. Doing well?"

"Yes, very. Um… we have work to do."

He paused, then laughed. It sounded like spring rain, just like how Basil's laugh had sounded like the pot bubbling: both promised the beginning of something new and wonderful, bringing life out of desolation. "Right, right. There's always work to do. Come on." He turned and walked back towards the shed with Kyouya and me following. There was a figure out in the field who caught my eye- he straightened up as we walked by him, but Kyouya pulled me along by the arm so I didn't get a good look at the person's face.

Lal spotted him. "Delle Stelle! Keep working; you _just_ had lunch break!"

He jumped and called back, though he sounded like he wasn't at all used to shouting. "I'm sorry!"

I knew whom he was: it was easy to recognize that voice, even when it was used in a way I'd never heard before. I didn't have to look at the face; I couldn't have seen it anyway, since I didn't have my glasses (Kyouya's or- suggestion).

As Kyouya and I came close, Reborn hopped off the roof of the shed as easily as I could have jumped across the space between two windows… okay, that wasn't a good analogy. As easily as I could have hopped off of a curb, then. "Hey," he said to us. Colonello turned to stand next to him while Lal kept an eye on the workers. "Thanks for coming out."

"It's no trouble," Kyouya said, averting his gaze to watch the workers. "We've been in your service too, so we're repaying a debt."

He nodded before pointing to the shed. "Mind if we ask for your help sharpening some of those, too? They're dull, and we'd prefer to keep those guys working if possible."

I looked to Kyouya, and he nodded in response to Reborn's question. "Not at all. This kid will be helping."

Reborn nodded. "Right; come on, then."

Colonello went ahead of us, bringing some scythes out of the shed, which he placed carefully on the ground on a large plastic sheet. "Just to keep as much dust as possible off of the blades," he said when he noticed my questioning look. "Lal and I are going to help, so we need a bit of room."

Sure enough, Reborn seemed to glide away while Lal came towards us. Sitting herself down without so much as a glance at us, she took the whetstone that Colonello handed her and then started her work.

…

By the time Reborn called the workers in from the field, we were almost done sharpening, but not quite. I watched as they came back: no pair of them had more than half a basket of grain… the one solo worker, though, came back with his basket nearly full. As they came back, Reborn pointed out what they were to do, and that the whole task would be over quickly if nobody slacked off.

A lanky-looking young man, perhaps two years older than I was and with dusty brown hair, came and sat next to me. He had a relaxed half-smile, and eyes full of space and stars. "Hello," I greeted him as he sat down. I scooted over to give him a bit more room.

He smiled warmly at me before turning to his work. "Hello."

We worked silently for a bit until he asked me a question. "Do you think this is alright?"

I looked. "You don't need to grind the blade. You can just slide the whetstone over the edge, like this." I demonstrated. "It might seem slow, but I think that this way is better."

He watched, then chuckled. "Yes, it does seem like it. I'll try that, then."

We worked again, and this time, we kept working while we spoke in hushed voices, keeping secrecy even where none was needed. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Tsuna." I let the name roll off of my tongue; I was used to it by then. "And you?"

He paused for a moment before answering, "Fuuta." He laughed a little through his nose. "My names don't match; I had to take a boat before I got on a train. I don't know how long ago that was."

"I just got on a train… what is the ocean like?"

He seemed genuinely happy as he spoke. "It's big… really big. Bigger than you can imagine. When you're surrounded on all sides by the sea, or even just on one side, you can feel like there are infinite possibilities." He paused again; when he began, his voice was even softer than usual. "There were so many islands near where I lived, and most were uninhabited. If you could get to any of them- by boat, or even sometimes by swimming- they were lush and beautiful… I'd find remnants of houses and streets and even parks or play structures, but never people. Sometimes, there would be writing- whole novels written onto the sides or insides of buildings, with pieces missing or broken or, rarely, completely whole… those stories, they let me think. I don't regret that. I think that learning to have thoughts was one of the best things I've ever learned. I know it."

…

"Eep!"

Kyouya looked up, halfway through buttoning his shirt. He always buttoned from the top and went backwards. "What?" He sounded a little bit annoyed.

I looked back at him, turning slowly. "Th- th- there was someone o- outside the window…"

He sighed, finishing off the buttons before coming over to stand next to me. He looked at the curtains, then glanced at me. "What makes you say that; it doesn't seem like it to me."

"I heard it!" I felt a little bit panicked. "There was thumping, like footsteps, and the way the bush rustled… it had to've been a person!"

He sighed again, and moved the curtains out of the way.

I'd never seen the view from the window before, but it was beautiful. Being on the side of the mansion, we had a clear view of Namimori's treeline boundary, which isolated it from the road beyond. In between, though, there was a garden, apparently well-kept. I marveled while Kyouya simply unlatched and opened the window partway with squeak here and there. He stuck his head out, looked around, then pulled back in. "There's nothing out there," he said, trying to slam the window shut by pulling with his weight. "Go to bed."

…

I don't know what sound it was that woke me up. Maybe it was a creak, or a thump, or a clack, or a click. All I knew were these few things:

It was the dead of night, which meant nearly no visibility, especially with the curtains closed.

Kyouya was sleeping peacefully with his back turned to me and the door.

There was somebody in the room, walking towards the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

"… Look, I know you're awake. I'm not going to hurt you."

I must've breathed audibly when I heard that familiar voice. It had such a fatherly tone to it that I immediately felt safe. Sitting up as quietly as I could, I tried not to disturb the bed as I climbed out of the covers. Luckily, I seemed to have succeeded because Kyouya didn't shuffle. There was a very faint orange glow coming from the hallway, but I could at least make out how the silhouette in front of me made a beckoning motion before leaving the room. I followed.

Alaude gently closed the door behind me after (apparently) confirming that Kyouya was still sleeping. "The power went out," he whispered, picking up the candle stick on the vase table by its ring handle. "The back-up generator needs two people to start it."

"But why ask me?" I asked. "I'm probably the weakest here."

"You have the largest portion of supplementary duties and the smallest of essentials, so it's least important that you sleep most. From a different perspective, I find you very trustworthy."

"I… haven't done anything."

"On the contrary, you did everything you could."

…

Around the age of five, I began having nightmares where my father would never return when he left the house. At twelve, those nightmares dwindled and died.

…

In the darkness, I could not recognize the halls and corners I'd grown so used to. Despite the surprisingly bright orange glow, the heavy black shape whose edges convulsed in front of me barred much of my vision, and otherwise I could not recognize the colors of objects, which from so close were too blurry to identify. After the first time I turned too soon and walked into the wall right next to a doorframe, Alaude held my hand as we walked. With him beside me, I was less afraid of the unknown.

With just a single origin of light, we made the entire journey.

…

The backup generator, to my surprise, was not down in the basement but outside along a wall. Alaude handed me the candlestick before kneeling down to find the pull cord. I'm not too sure of how generators work, but he seemed to know what he was doing, checking some kind of gauge and twisting a few knobs. Apparently satisfied, he grasped the pull cord's handle firmly and yanked. It took a bit before it puttered, roared once, and then began whirring. "That should last until daylight when we can get a proper fix," he said, nodding with apparent satisfaction. "Let's go back."

I was caught completely off-guard. "Wait, but why was I-"

"I needed someone to hold the candle."

"Just for that!?"

"Calm down. And what do you mean, 'just for that'? It's an important job. If that falls over it could start a fire and the entire field could go up in flames."

"I- I see… I apologize, sir."

He seemed about to say something when there was a slight scrabbling noise, and we both turned to look at the window on our right, in which something rustled before the bottom pane slid open, albeit with a squeak here and there. I was further surprised when Kyouya's head, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired, poked out. "You…?" he asked, suppressing a yawn while staring at me. "What are you doing out- oh."

Funnily, his eyes seemed to snap open and he seemed to become fully alert when he spotted the man who looked so like he. Alaude held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "I simply enlisted his help in getting the generator started; the power went out," he explained. "I figured that you needed your sleep."

"And he doesn't?" Kyouya snorted, not unlike a cat rubbed the wrong way. He held his hand out the window towards me. "Come here; you need to sleep."

I looked to Alaude once, and he nodded before taking the candlestick from me. "Good night," he said and, after patting my head affectionately, he turned on his heel and left. Kyouya was glaring at his retreating silhouette when I walked to the window, but he didn't stay that way for long. He helped me to pull myself into the room and, after motioning for me to stay put for a moment, he pulled the window forcefully down with just a little crash as the glass rattled.

He surprised me then- picking me up with both arms, supporting me by my upper back and the joints of my legs, he carried me to the bed and laid me gently down before crawling over me onto what was actually "my side". His hands never left me.

He held me, not tightly, but close. "You just don't understand how much danger you put yourself in."

…

When we woke up, the lights still didn't work. When I asked Alaude about it, he answered in this way: "I used the power to call for a specialist. He's on his way; just don't open the refrigerator because we don't want hot air to get in."

By ten-thirty, everyone was moving sluggishly. The ovens were fine because they were gas powered, but I felt sorry for Basil and Oregano having to spend all day in the hot, muggy kitchen, and even more so for Fuuta and the other workers in the field. I looked out the window once; even Reborn, Colonello and Lal had taken off their extra layers. Though we didn't have any sort of systems for changing the air, I'd never noticed that there were ventilation fans in some of the rooms, all of which no longer worked.

It was close to noon when someone knocked on the door. Again, I was the only one nearby, so I answered.

It was Giotto.

"Oh, hey Tsuna," he greeted me, breaking off from whatever he'd been saying to the blond man behind him. Whatever color his hair had been before, it was strictly brown now. We could have been brothers. "I brought the technician on my way back. This is Banter."

"Spanner," the man corrected in a flat tone. It seemed to me that he gave Giotto an odd glance, but he didn't seem to notice anything. "It's nice to meet you." He looked about the room a bit, then spoke again. "Do you know where the gauges are?"

"Outside, left wall in a roofed box," Giotto filled in before I could reply (though I would have said that I didn't know, anyway).

Spanner nodded. "Understood. Then, could you lead me?" his eyes were on me, and I nodded, walking past Giotto towards the outside.

"Oh, Tsuna!" Giotto called, interrupting me while he was in the middle of taking off his shoes. "Do you know where Kyouya is? …Oh, Alaude's fine too. He did call, after all."

"Kyouya's always cleaning; he might be dusting your room again," I replied. "I think Alaude is helping Dino out in the field."

Giotto seemed momentarily puzzled before he nodded hesitantly. I went on my way, Spanner following behind.

…

As expected, Spanner joined us for lunch, which was a little bit late. Strangely, though, no one sat at the end of the table. Basil and Oregano, as it had been so many times before, were not there. At the end instead sat Giotto and Kyouya, with Alaude and me next to them facing each other. Dino sat next to Alaude and Spanner next to me. They must have been about the same age.  
It seemed to me that Giotto and Alaude got along very well. They discussed what had gone on between their arrivals, which admittedly wasn't much, but I was fascinated by the way Alaude told stories. Kyouya, on the other hand, seemed to pointedly block out all sounds whenever he spoke. Giotto didn't talk much about where he'd gone, and Kyouya and I ate in silence. Spanner and Dino talked too, but I don't remember anything that they said. Wait… that's not true. Spanner mentioned the advancements in surveillance in the large cities; it was only a matter of time before the Varia could detect rising criminals or people with the very beginnings of illnesses. Dino had responded that surveillance on Namimori seemed unnecessary, so time and effort should be spent elsewhere.

Before we broke up, Giotto called me over. "I want you…" he began, trailing off as he dug around in his satchel. "Ah, found it. Here." He handed me what appeared to be a small blank book. "I want you to take an inventory of the tools in the shed out in the field and the clothes in the storeroom." He smiled, tapping the cover of the book twice. "It's only been used once, so there should be plenty of- oh, whoops." Again, he dug around in his satchel before tossing some kind of writing utensil towards me. "There. That's a good pen, so don't lose it, alright? It won't run out for a long time if you take care of it. Right then, get to it. Oh, Kyouya! I need to ask you about something."

As he moved away, I turned the book over in my hands again. A book for taking note of things? A notebook, then. I'd thought myself awfully clever, coming up with a single word to summarize an idea.

…

Kyouya was busy doing whatever it was he'd been asked to do, so I left the manor alone, fully changed and a bit muddied up. Reborn was the first to visibly acknowledge my appearance, but he signaled something to Lal, maintaining his position on top of the shed's roof. She was the one who approached me.

"Need something? You're a bit late if you're looking to work."

I shook my head. "I was asked to take an inventory of the tools in the shed," I said, holding up the notebook and pen.

She nodded, looked across at the workers, then up at the sky. "In this season, it'll stay light for a while yet. Well, get started." She was kind enough to open the shed door for me, though the inside was dimly lit; the small windows were grimy, but I could see well enough, especially with the light from the door.

I had to keep running out and asking what is such-and-such a tool called, how can I spell that, do you know what it's used for, should I count these as the same or different, is this a tool or just part of one? Eventually, Reborn got so distracted and Lal so exasperated that Colonello was all but ordered to keep me company with his laughs like spring rain.

Almost before I even held up the next tool, he answered. "That's a handle for something, though I can't remember what at the moment," he supplied. "… Wait, no, I remember. See those giant stone slabs over in the corner there? The ones that look like circles." I nodded. "A long time ago, there was a granary here, and the wheat from the field was ground right here. After a fire destroyed the storehouse, mill, and most of the field, he- it was decided that it would be more productive to expand the size of the field and stop milling. So the millstones and that handle are still left; you might find some other parts, too, if you look around. Before Lal, Reborn and me got moved here, the old supervisor used the handles for… um…" He stood silent for a few moments. "I can't remember what he used them for, but _something_ he did got him a job change… I think he called the handles T-sticks or something. Or… a T-bar? Something like that."

I nodded, and continued working. Perhaps supervisors such as those three were rare indeed, if only for valuing human life.

…

I would like to make this one statement perfectly clear: only one person ever helped me to do what I will describe next. All of these other people whom I have named were of help to me, but none were deliberate contributors. I am completely sure that none of them ever considered the possibility that I would remember the information they gave me, let alone use it the way I did.

We should have been scared, doing what we did, but we weren't. Why bother? We had no honor to uphold, no parents to impress, nothing, nothing to lose at all.


End file.
